Stone Hewn
by KatDancer2
Summary: Risa Aeducan. Hero of Ferelden. Commander of the Grey. Living Paragon. Arlessa of Amaranthine, and one pissed mother. She's after the talking darkspawn in Amaranthine - then next stop, Orlais!
1. Loss

_"I don't want to think about tomorrow, my own," Loghain had said softly, laying Risa back onto the mattress. "Help me to remember __tonight__."_

_Risa had unlaced his tunic even as he was sliding hers off her shoulders, baring her form to him. It was nothing he hadn't seen before, but he looked at her as if this was the first time he'd seen her laid bare before him. _

_She felt his fingers gently tracing the huge white semi-circle on the left side of her rib cage, where the high dragon the cultists thought was Andraste had picked her up and worried her like a wolf with a deer haunch. And then the shoulder, with its ragged claw marks, where she'd been horribly mauled by a rage demon and healed. The scar across her hip where he had scored a vicious wound on her at the Landsmeet. The small white scars, in shoulder, neck and chest, where darkspawn arrows had felled her in the Tower of Ishal. She found herself quietly telling him the story of each disfigurement, her body a map of her adventures, pressing herself urgently into the gentleness of his touch._

_He kissed them all, lingering especially on the white line across her hip. "This one I regret – but the injury I will most lament is the one I will leave here." He pressed his hand flat over her heart, and Risa started to cry even as his lips met hers tenderly. She traced his own scars, kissing and caressing them – a lifetime, a history written in his hide as well. And then she had pushed him over, onto his back, and straddled him, sighing as she rolled her hips and drew a guttural moan from him._

* * *

The days before Loghain packed his few belongings sped by all too quickly, a whirlwind of time spent with Gareth and Risa all day. Loghain and Risa spent their nights in each other's arms, sometimes making love frantically, as if their very lives depended on it. Sometimes, it was simply for the comfort of being held all night.

On the day Loghain rode out from the Vigil, Risa had accompanied him in silence to the stables, helping him attach the saddlebags and mount up. Her expression never changed, and there were no words – though he caressed her cheek one last time, kissed her one last time, before mounting up.

"Here," he'd said, handing her a tightly rolled parchment. "You'd best keep this one safe for me, love."

It was his map of Ferelden… showing new borders in which more territory had been carved out of Orlais. His dearest possession – and something he clearly could not take with him.

She'd walked away without a word, and anyone who did not know her would mistake her outward calm for lack of feeling. Loghain understood only too well the pain hidden in her heart – he'd mastered that knack decades ago.

By the time he had clucked Traveler into a walk, Risa was up on the battlements, to watch him go until he disappeared into the distance.

* * *

"I don't like it," Oghren said soberly, waving a turkey leg to punctuate his words. "She hasn't been out of that office except for meals and to see her little nuglet."

"Well, gee, what could be upsetting her? I mean it's not like her husband's been sent right into the welcoming jaws of a pack of wolves, right?" Sigrun snorted, drinking more of her ale. The Wardens generally ate together for the noon meal – for some it was breakfast, others lunch, still others dinner, depending on their shift.

Risa and Loghain had presided over these meals for years together, along with Howe. Now Nathaniel sat alone at the high dais with Varel, Woolsey and Garavel more often than not, trying to keep the Vigil and the Wardens running smoothly.

"Someone oughta talk to her. It ain't healthy."

"Right." Sigrun handed Oghren her coin pouch, after dumping her coin into the top of her boot. "Here."

"Whazzat for?" Oghren asked, puzzled.

"To carry your balls in when she rips them off."

"Be serious. We ain't seen her except when she uses the necessary.

"I am serious." Sigrun shook her head. "She's like one of Dworkin's bombs, and like them – you don't know when it's going off, but when it does…. BOOM." She shrugged. "But if you wanna juggle with explosives, it's your funeral."

"Says the member of the Legion of the Dead." Oghren snorted.

"Yeah, makes me kind of an expert, dontcha think?"

* * *

"Risa."

She didn't even look up from her paperwork. "Anders. What can I do for you – I'm a little busy."

He came over and sat on her desk. "No, you're not. You're avoiding everyone and everything, though."

Risa's eyes met his. "There are a lot of details that go into running a keep of this size, Anders, along with the Wardens and the arlings' guards and army."

"Of that I have no doubt." He took her quill from her hand and put it in the inkwell. "However. The Keep, the Army, and the Guard. Those jobs used to be Varel's, Woolsey's and Garavel's. And should still be theirs. _Your_ job is the Wardens. And your son."

Risa's eyes narrowed slightly.

"I know it must be difficult, but…."

"Difficult." She was looking at him with the perfectly blank look that Oghren and Sigrun referred to as "stone hewn". Immutable. Unflappable. Unfortunately, Anders knew enough to know that this usually presaged a volcanic eruption of temper.

He sighed. "Tear my head off if you have to. But don't make Gareth feel like he's lost both of you."

Risa blinked, then looked back down at her paperwork. She carefully picked up the quill again.

"Thank you, Anders. That will be all."

"Risa…."

"That will be ALL, Warden."

"Fine!" Anders paused at the door. "So when he asks again, same line: Mommy loves you, she's just really busy right now, right?"

He walked out without looking back.

Risa put the quill down, pinched the bridge of her nose, and slid out of her chair to stand and face the fireplace.

She was still standing there quietly when Dog slunk in, whining softly, to lick the tears from her face.


	2. Vigilant

When Risa walked out of the Keep proper and over towards the cottages that the many servants in the Vigil lived, she saw Delilah Cooper, her son Nate, and Gareth on the grass together. Delilah had a blanket down with a basket full of goodies; Nate and Gareth were whooping and chasing each other – falling down just as often as running, but both laughing.

Dog was sitting; alert, at the side of the blanket as well, his eyes on the boys. His muzzle was getting a little grey now – he'd been with Risa for nearly a decade now. He'd fathered a fine string of pups, and Risa hoped that Gareth would imprint a mabari when he was old enough to care for it himself. Maybe even one of Dog's get. Two and a half seemed far too young to Risa – but perhaps she should ask Teyrn Cousland. She seemed to remember that his family had raised Mabari.

"Mama!" Gareth caught sight of her, and he flung himself at her, all clumsy enthusiasm not unlike a mabari pup himself. He was somewhat taller than a pure-blood dwarf of the same age, a bit leaner though next to Nate he was obviously stockier than a pure human.

Risa caught him up and spun him in a circle, setting the boy to squealing happily. "And what have you been up to today, my dear?"

"Chasing Nate!" Gareth said, squirming in her grip. "You play, mama. You play Gareth, Nate."

She set him down, smiling. "In a moment, darling boy."

Gareth's face went from ecstatic to… well, had there been any doubt of his paternity, that scowl would have laid the accusations to rest. Risa felt her heart seize a moment, seeing Loghain's scowl on their son's face. "Mama… busy?"

Ouch. Anders had been right.

"No, Nug. Mama wants to talk to Lady Cooper, though for just a minute. Then Mama can play with Dog, and Gareth and Nate. Okay?"

Gareth nodded, his piercing light blue eyes fixed on her face.

Delilah smiled. "Your ladyship…"

"Please." Risa smiled. It was an old argument. "Call me Risa. You're helping to raise my son."

Delilah nodded. "He is a wonderful boy. It is easy to love him."

Risa's heart seized painfully for a moment as she looked at Gareth. He was handsome, and there were more than a few traces of his father in him. Perhaps that was made it so hard for Risa to spend time with him… other than the main – that she kept herself buried in work so she wouldn't have time to notice the huge empty space at her left, and the silence in her head.

Ancestors, that silence. She knew the buzz for the taint that would kill her eventually, but Loghain had been a part of it, a comforting presence in her head and in her peripheral vision.

Now he was gone.

Gareth must have been watching her face, reading her sorrow. The toddler took a few unsteady steps and wrapped his arms around Risa's leg. "Mama sad," he said quietly.

Risa nodded. No point lying to the boy. "Yes, Nug. Mama's sad." She picked him up and held him close.

"No sad, Mama. Gareth play." He snuggled into her hug. "Gareth help mama. Be big boy for Dada."

Risa's eyes shut as she held him.

"Dada back soon?"

"I don't know, Nug," she said quietly. A lie. "But we need to be good and be brave for him, don't we?"

Gareth nodded. "Mama play now?"

Risa set him down reluctantly. "Yes. Mama play now."

* * *

Risa charged up the stairs to the living quarters, her face and armor splashed with blood, her mouth in a rictus of rage and fear. She heard Dog barking madly inside the nursery, and she flung herself around the corner even as Nathaniel yelled at her to wait.

There was a Hurlock and two Genlocks there, outside the splintering door. With a scream of rage, Risa charged, hardly aware of the arrows flying by overhead.

She leaped, and Slice and Dice, her longswords, were buried in the Hurlock's chest even as she crashed into him, knocking him down and away from the door. She rolled off of him, using her momentum to yank both swords out of his chest. As he reached weakly for her, an arrow in the eye finished him.

The door broke under the Genlocks' fists, and Dog burst out of the ruins of it, grabbing one by the throat and shaking it like a ragdoll. Inside, above it all, Risa could hear loud, terrified sobs, and she launched herself back towards the nursery.

The last Genlock reared up before her, and she ducked, its blade slashing her face. She screamed her warcry, knocking it back, and even as she heard Dog's quarry's neck snap behind her under his furious attack, Risa slammed her sword home and decapitated the last Genlock.

"Mama!"

She whirled to see Gareth about to run out of the room, into all that taint. She knew her dwarva blood afforded him some protection, but the weakness of Loghain's human blood….

"NO!" she shouted, and the force of her yell knocked him back, inside the nursery, and into Delilah's arms.

Risa raced to the door, her face split with worry, to see Gareth shaking himself and looking up from Delilah's comforting embrace. "Mama?" he said, his voice trembling.

"It's ok baby – don't come out here." She looked at Delilah, who nodded – the knockback from her war cry had not hurt Gareth. "Stay with Nana Delilah and, and protect Nate."

Nathaniel came up behind her – on her right. "Delilah?"

"We're fine, brother," Delilah said, "thanks to you two."

Dog whined.

"And of course, Dog," Delilah added with a smile.

Gareth tried to get up. "Mama hug?"

"Not now, Nugling," Risa said, her voice taut with longing. "Mama, Dog, and Uncle Nathaniel need to get cleaned up before we can touch you. And this hall needs scrubbing, too." Ancestors, if any of them touched the blood, they'd likely be tainted.

"Don't worry, " Delilah said, reading Risa's face, "We'll be fine now."

More wardens came charging up to the Arlessa's wing. "Commander – Senior Warden Oghren says the basements are cleared. Senior Warden Sigrun reports the bailey clear. Do you need a healer here?"

Risa shook her head. "No. Just…. One of you stay with Lady Cooper and her charges until this mess is cleared.

One of the wardens nodded, drawing her two-handed sword and leaning on it. "Yes, Commander."

As Risa headed towards the bathing rooms, she saw another three Wardens coming – with scrub brushes and buckets of water. Tainted blood could infect servants – so the Wardens would take care of it.

"Maker, I could soak forever," Nathaniel said softly as they stepped into the room with the huge tubs and began stripping their armor and clothes.

Their armor went into two piles in the corner, where they could be scrubbed. Risa glanced at her tunic and leggings and, sighing, tossed them into the chute that went to the furnace. Too much blood on them to risk washing. Her breastband and smalls, similarly stained, went the same way.

Nathaniel too was stripping down and disposing of his clothing, and neither of them so much as glanced at each other as they got into their respective tubs to wash. There was absolutely nothing to do with attraction here: it was a necessity to get cleaned as quickly as possible so they could truly check on their respective families properly.

"That was a close one," he offered, as they both sunk into the steaming hot tubs to soak off the tainted blood.

"Too close," Risa said grimly, her voice edged with sorrow.

Nathaniel glanced over at her, but Risa simply had her eyes shut, and an unhappy downcast to her mouth. This enforced separation was wearing strongly on her, he had no doubt – and now seeing Gareth endangered in the very nursery…. He wasn't sure what Risa would do.


	3. A Letter Arrives

Warden Commander,

Orlais is just as wonderful as I had imagined. It has absolutely beautiful countryside, it is true, and the wines are of a _very_ fine quality. It would be perfect if not for all the bloody Orlesians. And by that I mean the nobility and the damned chevaliers, not the commoners. The poorest Fereldens have it easy, when compared to what some of these serfs must go through daily.

And let us not forget our brother Wardens. Not a day goes by that I am not reminded how much I am valued here. I am treated with a level of respect that is absolutely beyond my wildest imaginings. And I have done much useful and fulfilling work here at the fortress in Montsimmard.

How is that young recruit of yours? I'm only sorry that I shan't be able to keep up with his progress personally. I was thinking that while it may be a little early to think about now, matching him with Sigrun as a sparring partner would not be the worst idea.

Yours in vigilance,

Loghain


	4. Talking Darkspawn, Here We Come

"_Risa_," Nathaniel said to her for the third time as she paced in her office.

"Howe, the darkspawn aren't going to just up and leave because we ask them to. We need to take this fight to them, drive them away from Amaranthine, and collapse the exits they've made from the Deep Roads to the surface."

He had seen Risa in many moods – happy, angry, depressed, and uncertain – he had even seen her frightened – but she had been walking around in a barely-contained rage for days now. The pages avoided her and even some of the wardens did. The only people who had not felt the sharp edge of her tongue at this point were his sister, his nephew, and Gareth.

It wasn't hard to guess why. She'd gotten a letter from Orlais this week, and he was quite willing to bet that it was a raid on Montsimmard she'd really prefer to be making.

"Risa, you propose to take me, Anders and Oghren with you. That's our most senior wardens, leaving Sigrun with all the new recruits. And it's our healer. We end up dying out there in a clearly risky operation and, what? Our newest Warden has to rebuild the order in Ferelden?" He shook his head, then looked her straight in the eye. "What will happen to Gareth if you don't come back, Risa?"

The look in Risa's eyes made him feel as if he'd just slapped her. But she was pausing now, thinking.

"This is why they don't want wardens to have families," she said quietly, her voice strained almost to the breaking point. "Because three years ago, we wouldn't be – "

"You're right. Three years ago we _wouldn't_ be having this conversation, because there was another senior warden, and any one of us left behind could lead. And three years ago we did _not_ have our families here to be protected. But we do have them here, and we have one less senior warden, and we need to think about what we're doing."

Risa faced Nathaniel. "Shards, I hate it when you're right." She looked at the map of the Deep Roads beneath Amaranthine she had. "We are going to have to do s—"

She blinked.

Then she nodded grimly.

"What if we had support? A two-pronged attack?"

Nathaniel looked at the map. "Four of us from the surface and…."

She pointed. "There's a new outpost at Kal Hirol since we cleared out the broodmothers, right? I seem to remember them bringing a lot of warriors with them."

He rubbed his chin. "But they couldn't commit all of them to an all out assault – and even if they could, why would they?"

Risa nodded. "No. They couldn't commit them all. They couldn't even commit a third. But enough to help. As for why, three things. They've profited from our going down there and clearing things out, and we've supported them – and their trade. Having a trading partner with Ser Derren is something they like a LOT. It might be crass to say they owe us, _but they owe us_. Besides – sealing the spawn out of the area benefits them too, so it's not like we're being utterly selfish bastards over this."

"Is that really... ethical?"

Risa's jaw tensed. "_Whatever. Is Necessary,_" she said, each word clear and distinct.

Nathaniel nodded. "Then let's not play. How about committing a team from House Warden, too?"

Risa considered it. "It would be appropriate. I'll contact Gorim and ask him to select a team." She nodded grimly. "Talking darkspawn, here we come."

* * *

_Warden Loghain:_

_We were most interested in hearing your impressions of Orlais, so far as you have seen it, her peasantry, and her chevaliers. It would please us if, having time and inclination, you were to describe the sights you see while stationed there. And if by chance a bottle or two of this very fine Orleasian wine were to make it here, I would think Varel would by most pleased._

_I am glad to hear that you are settling in among your brothers and that they have been welcoming to you. It would be a tragic error to let that fine strategic sense of yours go to waste. I certainly expected that they would understand what a gift they had received when the First Warden sent you there. I confess that it has been somewhat dull here without you, and some of the finer points of flight have escaped the newer recruits. I am told that Howe will attempt to teach that particular set of lessons but feels that it would have been better taught by a more experienced man._

_The newest recruit is coming along nicely. I believe that come the spring, I shall take him to the local kennel and see if he cannot impress his own Mabari. The two of them could then train together and form a formidable unit of their own. I believe Teyrn Cousland will be able to advise me regarding this._

_Yours in vigilance,_

_Warden-Commander Risa Aeducan_


	5. Time and Tides

_Risa stood on the beach outside of Amaranthine uncertainly, looking at the heave and swell of the waves breaking on the sand. "You're joking."_

_"I assure you, I am not." Loghain Mac Tir was pulling off his boots and setting them above the high tide mark, and glanced over at his diminutive wife. "It is a skill well worth having – especially with Gareth around. What would you do if he fell into water over his head? The ocean… a well…?"_

_"I'd go in after him," Risa said without hesitation, then paled._

_Loghain nodded gruffly, stripping off his shirt and breeches until he was standing in his smalls. He folded the clothing neatly and set it on top of his boots. "And then, someone would need to rescue the both of you. Or Maker forbid, we'd __**lose**__ one or both of you. I am not prepared to do that, love." He crossed his arms, taking note of her still-clothed state. "Well?"_

_Risa watched the expanse of sea disappearing into the horizon, never still. "It's so _big_," she said softly, and looked up at her husband, fear writ large over her features._

_"So," he said dryly, "was the Archdemon."_

_Risa barked an involuntary laugh at that. "That it was." She must have looked incredibly tiny next to that high dragon, alone, racing toward what she had thought to be certain death without a second thought. "I'm being ridiculous, aren't I? This… this is something human _children_ learn."_

_Loghain shook his head. "How ridiculous? Tell me of the great underground seas of Orzammar."_

_Risa frowned. "Now you're making fun of me."_

_"Never." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I have seen lakes and rivers in the Deep Roads, though. Why did you not swim there?"_

_"Take my armor off in a place where I'm as likely to be attacked by deepstalkers and spiders as dark…." She trailed off._

_"Not to mention what might live underwater, I am sure. So there are many very good reasons why dwarves in Orzammar would not be exposed to swimming. And there are many very good reasons that all surfacers should learn it."_

_Risa still looked uncertain, but began to pull of her boots. "Many? List them."_

_Loghain's crow's feet deepened in the look she'd learned to interpret as amusement. "Survival. Being able to slip in or out of a seaside cave quietly. Safety, if one is to travel on boats or to fish." He steadied her as she yanked off one boot, then rumbled near her ear, _"Pleasure."

_Risa blushed instantly, and nearly fell over. "Pleasure?"_

_"Swimming is _fun_, my dear." He steadied her as she pulled off her other boot, then watched in amusement as she stripped down to her smallclothes and breast band._

_Risa gave him a skeptical look as she folded her things and laid them beside his. "Fun," she said, mostly to herself. "As much fun as it will be if Anders or one of the others finds us cavorting about in the sand in nothing more than our smalls?"_

_One corner of his mouth quirked up. "It could be worse. Some Chantry sister might stroll by."_

_Risa snorted. "Despite having some Chantry sister mumble over our joining, I am no Andrastean. It wouldn't matter to me that she was a sister – just that it was seen at all."_

_"I assure you, Risa," he said, "having lived in port cities most of my adult life, swimming is not seen as odd in the least. People swim in their smalls all the time. Children – and particularly… free spirits, shall we say – often don't even bother with the smalls." He extended his hand to her. "Come."_

_She took his hand, grumbling, "Well. I'm glad enough we're wearing smallclothes – I don't think I want the whole world seeing what I've got." _

_It was just as well he'd taken her hand to steady her as they entered the water. As she followed him out, a wave broke over the two of them, and Risa would have panicked except that his grip on her hand never faltered, helping to keep her on her feet until her head broke the surface and she could see and breathe again._

_"A little further out, unless you want to be ducked every time a wave comes in – we're just where they're breaking."_

_"But it's deeper there!" she said._

_"You won't get smashed by the waves there. We both will, here."_

_A moment later, Risa yelped with surprise as her feet were swept off the bottom. She started to thrash, and slipped below the water once, then came up sputtering. "I can't feel the bottom!"_

_He steadied her a moment. "Stop flailing around, and just relax."_

_Risa privately though he might as well have said, "Stretch out your wings and fly," but she stopped thrashing – and immediately found that her head bobbed above the water._

* * *

_"I thought you said this would be _fun_," Risa groaned, as she dog-paddled over to Loghain,_

_She was, when all was said and done, a remarkably quick study. However, one day in the surf wasn't going to really provide her with more than __**delaying drowning**__ and __**basic locomotion**__._

_With a smile, Loghain took a breath and disappeared beneath the surface._

_"Loghain?" Risa looked around wildly, treading water. _"Loghain?"

_The next thing she knew, she was being bodily lifted out of the water and tossed a few feet away. She shrieked as she splashed down, and kicked to the surface, spluttering… to see her husband grinning at her._

_"You," she growled, lunging for him and falling unsurprisingly short, "are going to pay for that."_

_Loghain kept just an arm's length out of her reach, leaving Risa to splash and paddle after him. When she had stopped threatening and complaining and started laughing and splashing him playfully, he dove and twisted, slippery as an eel, and caught her in his arms._

_"Oh!" Risa had gasped, pulled tightly against his broad chest, his toned thighs. And yes… they were both wearing smallclothes… for all the difference it made. She rested her hands on his shoulders, her eyes wide, nearly nose to nose with him._

_Loghain had expected to have caught Risa like that, but now that she was enfolded in his arms, her soft, sleek, warm skin pressed against him, he froze. He could feel her small, firm breasts bound in their band, pressed up against his chest, and he could simply fall into her wide obsidian eyes and lose himself forever._

_Treading water made them brush against each other, and the sensation made both their hearts pound._

_"Risa," Loghain grated, his voice unsteady._

_Her answer was to tip her head to the left and give him a heated, devouring kiss._

_He groaned into her mouth, and kissed her back hard, crushing her close, and they both got a ducking and a nose full of water as they stopped treading water and slipped below the surface. Spluttering and laughing, they slogged out of the water, hand in hand._

_"So. my dear… what's the verdict? Is swimming, in fact, fun?"_

_Risa pounced on Loghain, tumbling him into the sand. As he rolled to face her, she grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the ground, straddling his waist._

_"Oh, indeed," she purred, leaning forward, her lips a tantalizing breath away from his. "But I think what comes _after_ will please you as well,"_

_Loghain smirked, and didn't even try to break her grip on him._


	6. Safe Harbor

Risa waited for Nathaniel to step to Milady's side, then handed a sleepy Gareth down into her fellow warden's arms. It had been a hard trip – a week of riding from Vigil's Keep to the Warden Compound in Denerim.

"Dada?" he demanded sleepily, knuckling his ice blue eyes.

"Sorry, Gareth," Nathaniel said gently. "Just me." He looked over the toddler's shoulder at Risa, and for an instant saw the flash of pain in her eyes – then the absolutely neutral face she showed the world when she was hurting most.

The little boy was too tired to protest, and simply laid his head against Howe's shoulder trustingly, his arms twined around the archer's neck.

Risa slid off Milady's back, and handed her reins to a stableboy. "Come on, Nug, it's late. Time good boys were asleep." She looked up at her fellow Warden, who shrugged. The boy was well enough where he was, and Nathaniel carried him gently to Risa's rooms.

* * *

Risa knelt before King Alistair and Queen Anora as they sat on their thrones, her head bowed as she stood before them in the little audience chamber.

"Oh, do get up," Alistair said impatiently. Risa insisted on following the proper protocol, having been herself a princess, but the moment he gave her leave she straightened. Anora realized the importance of Risa's ritual submission, even if Alistair did not.

"Warden-Commander," Anora said smoothly, "to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence here in Denerim?"

Risa nodded, and Nathaniel stepped forward to hand Alistair's secretary a scroll case. "We've come to deliver our reports on darkspawn in Ferelden, your Majesty, and how we are dealing with them," Risa said.

"Surely this could have all been done by messenger?" Anora asked.

Risa nodded. "It could. But I wished to beg the favor of a more personal audience as well."

Alistair pulled off his crown and tossed it on a side table, causing both his secretary and Anora to sigh. "Fine. Official audience over, let's go get something to eat."

* * *

"And they got right to the nursery door _itself_?" Alistair asked grimly, glancing at Anora.

"Yes. Had I not gotten in the habit of leaving Dog to guard Gareth, Nate, and Delilah, I don't care to think what might have happened." Risa still got a bit pale thinking about it. "Apparently there are entrances from the Deep Roads into the lowest cellars, thanks to some indiscriminate blasting; but while we shore up and seal off the basement…."

"…it's no fit place for my half-brother to be. I quite agree," Anora said firmly.

Risa looked at them both. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I don't trust sending him to Orzammar. In the first place, his Aeducan blood would surely be seen as a threat to Harrowmont's rule, and I don't want my son to be a chess piece in a game between Piotyr and Harrowmont. Secondly…."

Risa trailed off. This next was hard for her to say. "Secondly, Gareth would face a great deal of prejudice since he is not fully dwarva-blooded." She shook her head. "Were I to go with him I could protect him from most – by calling out a few of the most vocal and leaving their blood staining the stones in the proving grounds. Without me there, there's no telling what would happen."

Anora reached out and covered Alistair's hand with her own. Alistair glanced at her, then back at Risa.

"It seems to me that there's a rather simple solution to a number of problems," Alistair said, glancing at Anora and catching her subtle nod.

"You need a safe place for Gareth to stay while you rid Amaranthine of darkspawn. We have a problem as well – Duncan hasn't any playmates. Most of the nobles' children are far older than he. What could be more natural than to have Gareth, his uncle, stay and be his companion?" Alistair asked.

Risa looked for a moment as if she wanted to throw herself into Alistair's arms and hug him – but of course, she could not. She settled for a smile and nod at both Anora and Alistair. "Thank you," she said fervently. "I know he could be in no safer hands than in those of the royal nanny."

"What of Mistress Cooper and young Nathaniel," Anora asked. She, of course, had listened to all of Risa's tale.

Risa shook her head. "It's difficult – they'll remove to Amaranthine proper. Neither Nate nor Gareth understand why they must be separated…"

"They needn't be. This Nate has Howe blood, does he not? The Howe name was a proud one and is one once more. Bring these Coopers to Denerim and we will situate them close to the palace."

Alistair shot Anora a look at that, and Anora simply arched an eyebrow. After nearly a decade together, they were adept at having entire conversations without saying a word. "So shall it be."

As Risa began to take her leave, Anora stopped her. "Have you heard from my father of late?"

Risa shook her head bitterly. "I'm sorry, Anora. I have not, not beyond a first message that carefully did not tell me about how well he is being treated there."

Anora nodded. "Much the same with me. I believe Father may be caught up in what the Orlesians call their Grand Game."

Risa raised an eyebrow. "Is he, now…?" she said thoughtfully. "They'd best be careful, then. There's no telling what will happen when you introduce a wild card to the deck…."

Alistair shook his head. "Do try not to start another war, Risa…."

"Wouldn't dream of it."


	7. Nug

"Mama?"

Warden-Commander Risa Aeducan looked up from her reports to see Gareth standing in the doorway of her office in the Grey Warden compound in Denerim, rubbing his eyes sleepily. They'd arrived a week ago, and Risa was getting everything she could in order before leaving Gareth here with Anora and Alistair, and with Gareth's nephew, Duncan.

"What is it, Nug?" Risa got up and walked over to the toddler, swinging him up onto her hip. "Can't sleep?"

He cuddled into her, his arms twining around her neck. "Want Dada," he said softly.

Risa's vision blurred, and she swallowed hard as she headed to a large comfortable chair by the fire. "Me too, Nug," she said quietly. She wasn't sure what would be worse – his asking for his father day after day, or the day he no longer remembered to ask.

"Mama… where's Dada?"

Risa sat in the leather chair with him on her lap. "Your father is living in Orlais, in a place called Montsimmard," she said gently.

"Why?"

Now _there_ was a question Risa wanted answered, too. And as soon as she dealt with these talking darkspawn in Ferelden, she would have answers, too, if it meant standing in Weisshaupt Fortress and demanding them.

She rocked Gareth, kissing his forehead. "Your father's a very brave man, Nug. And he's one of the smartest tacticians I know – which means he knows how to direct armies to beat the bad guys. They needed him to protect the people in Orlais, because we have me and Nathaniel here protecting Ferelden."

"'Faniel go. Dada come home. Dada hate Orlais."

Risa smiled faintly even as she shook her head. "Nathaniel can't go, Nug. He's assigned here with me. And Nathaniel's home has always been Vigil's Keep. Don't you think he'd be sad to leave it?"

"Dada _hate_ Orlais," Gareth said stubbornly, his features settling into an all-too-familiar scowl.

"Yes, Nug, he does. But your father and I have a responsibility to protect people – no matter where they are from. So even though I love Orzammar, I protect the people in Ferelden, because that's where I'm needed. And even though your father loves Ferelden, he protects the people in Orlais, because that's where _he's_ needed." It wasn't the whole truth, of course – but what should she do? Upset Gareth with her suspicions?

Gareth sat back, looking into her black eyes and said plaintively."Mama, Dada sad to leave Nug?"

Risa closed her eyes, her breath hitching painfully. She nodded, holding Gareth close. "Oh, Nug," she said softly, kissing his forehead. "Yes, sweetie. Your father is _very_ sad about that. I know I'm very sad too." She opened her eyes and looked at the boy solemnly. "Your mama misses your father so much, Nug. And your father knew I would. That's why he made you promise to be a good boy for me..."

Gareth nodded. "Pinky swear," he said, holding up his hand.

"Pinky swear," she agreed, wondering what in the world the boy meant. She'd have to ask Nathaniel later.

"Mama?"

"Yes, Nug?"

The boy put a hand on her cheek gently. "Don't cry. Dada come back."

Risa pulled him against her chest and hugged the boy fiercely, so he couldn't see her start to do just that at the thought that her baby was sitting here comforting _her_.

* * *

_Warden Loghain:_

_It's become necessary to transfer that young warden in whom you showed such interest to the compound in Denerim. There is something about the Vigil that doesn't agree with him – so for his health he has been transferred. I am told that Ser Cauthrien chanced to see him in the market and remarked that his demeanor and comportment reminded her strongly of a much younger version of you._

_His curiosity is boundless, and will no doubt land him in trouble some day. I am told he managed to stumble into the royal kennels at precisely the wrong – or one might say right – time, and is now accompanied everywhere by a large black pup appropriately enough named Shadow. I think they will do well together._

_Be well, and know that your brothers and sisters in arms miss you and wish you well._

_Yours in Sacrifice_

_Warden-Commander Risa Aeducan  
_


	8. You're the One that I Want

Risa Aeducan kicked and scrabbled, keeping her forearm wedged under the Shriek's chin and forcing its head back as it snarled and tried to rip her throat out. She reached desperately to pull her dagger from her boot, as her sword had been knocked away.

_I can't die,_ she thought, desperately trying to throw off the deformed creature as it screamed in her face again, making her feel dizzy and sick_. I can't leave Nug alone when his father's gone and might never make it back._

The shriek stabbed her in the leg, and Risa grunted in pain… and suddenly the creature had been torn away from her.

Dog yelped as one of the creature's sharp wrist blades slashed across his nose as they tumbled along the floor, and before the mabari could recover his feet, the twisted darkspawn sank his blade into the dog's side.

"NO!" Risa landed on the demented monsters back and slit its throat... in the next instant she was on her knees beside Dog, her hands pressing to the wicked wound on his side.

She was dimly aware of Jowan landing beside her on his knees, scrabbling in his bag. "Here!" he said, shoving a poultice into her hands even as she saw him readying a spell.

Dog was looking up at Risa, whining softly, his stub of a tail wagging uncertainly as she pushed the poultice against his hide. "Don't leave me, boy," Risa pleaded softly, her onyx eyes meeting with his chocolate brown. "Please, Dog….."

Dog whined, closing his eyes, even as a wash of blue-white magic flooded over him.

"Hang on," Jowan said beside the two. "There… that's got it!"

Oghren came over as soon as he and Sigrun had dispatched the last darkspawn – a Hurlock Alpha. The red-haired dwarf watched quietly as the terrible rent in Dog's hide healed sluggishly. Risa was kneeling beside the animal still, petting it gently.

"You're a good boy," she said softly. "You've done well."

Dog licked her hand, then laid his head down and went still, breathing so shallowly one might miss it if one were not looking carefully.

Jowan looked up at her nervously. "I… he'll be ok, I think. I'm not as good a healer as Anders." He seemed both apologetic and bitter about that at the same time, and clearly terrified at being confined in the Deep Roads. "He'll need to rest."

_Anders_, Risa thought uncharitably, _would have had Dog on his feet in an instant._

_Jowan_, the fair part of her mind reminded her, _was a healer after a fashion, but his blood magic made him a far better battlemage._ He was doing his best here, and berating him wouldn't do anything except make him more nervous and panicky.

Risa looked around swiftly, and saw they were very close to an alcove in the cave wall. With a grunt, she got her arms around dog's chest. "Oghren?"

"Right behind ya." He knelt and grabbed the dog gently just before its hind legs, and helped her lift and carry Dog into the slightly more protected area.

It didn't take long to collect some debris and pile it near the entrance to the alcove. The three dwarves and Jowan squeezed in, and then Jowan lit the fire…

…with flint and tinder.

"Why did we bring him again?" Oghren groused.

"He's a healer," Risa snapped from Dog's side, "and he's a brother Warden."

"And he makes giant spiders boil from within and explode," Sigrun added helpfully.

Jowan shrunk from the three dwarves with a sigh. Oghren was right – he was not very good as a healer, yet Risa had brought him, trusted him. And now look where it had gotten them.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and yelped, straightening – only to see it was Sigrun, giving him an encouraging smile. "Hey. It's just me."

Jowan shrugged. "Sorry. It's just _me_… not _Anders_."

Risa growled from her side of the fire by Dog. "You're right. You're not Anders. Luckily, I wanted _you_ and not _him_ here." She fixed Oghren with a glare. "Anyone else want to question my orders, feel free to keep it to yourself 'till we're safe back at the Vigil and not before."

"All's I mean, Risa, is…."

She fixed him with a look. Jowan hadn't seen that look before, but he was glad it wasn't directed at him. It was a cold and glittering look that promised that if that sentence were finished, someone was likely to be VERY unhappy and it was NOT going to be the Commander.

* * *

The next morning, Dog had awakened subdued and a bit stiff, but ready to go. He'd chuffed quietly and decided to wake Jowan by giving the sole human of the group a morning face-wash.

"Ugh, Dog!" Jowan fended the animal off even as Dog whined happily and wagged his tail, nudging the Warden Mage with his nose. "Yes, I like you too… Maker, what do we feed you, your breath is a weapon!"

"Darkspawn and Wardens who question orders," Risa said, though when he looked up at her, startled, he could see amusement there. She grabbed Dog by the ruff and tugged playfully, and the animal lolled his tongue out and transferred his attention to her.

Jowan noticed that she was still limping. "Commander, let me take a look at that leg."

Risa nodded. "It is a bit stiff – Shriek got me there just before he got Dog." She loosened the greave and cuisse so he could see.

"Commander, this wound is deep! Why didn't you tell me about it last night?" Jowan asked irritably. He supposed if anything bad came of her neglect, it would be his fault.

"Dog was hurt worse, and you looked all in after saving him." She shrugged as he cleaned the wound and slapped a poultice on it.

"What if this gets infected?" he grumbled.

"With darkspawn taint?" She looked amused. "I don't think anything pedestrian will give my metabolism much pause, really. And I'm already tainted, so." Still, her face eased under his ministrations, and she nodded to him when he'd finished. "Thanks."

"So why did you bring me, Commander?"

"Risa."

Jowan looked at her in confusion. "Sorry?"

"Call me Risa. We're not in front of non-Wardens, and we're brothers and sisters in arms. And no, that's not just bullshit."

He looked at her warily. "Why'd you bring me, Comm- Risa?"

"Because I needed a battlemage with healing." She looked him in the eye. "Because I trust you. Because you're the best man for the job."

Jowan laughed bitterly and nervously. "Me, the best man? My you must be scraping the bottom of the barrel, mustn't you?"

She glared at the neurotic mage. "Get over it."

"I beg your…."

Risa shoved him hard, eliciting a surprised gasp. "I said GET OVER IT. Ancestor's balls, you're your own worst enemy!" She turned away, trembling – he thought, at first, with laughter, but then recognized it as anger.

"Standing about feeling inadequate has made an absolute shambles of your life, hasn't it?" she growled. "So maybe you _weren't_ the most talented – it _doesn't_ make you shit at magic. And maybe you _weren't_ the most confident – it _doesn't_ make you worthless. And maybe you _weren't_ the most beautiful – it _doesn't_ make you unworthy of love.

"You're an _idiot_, and if you want to be an idiot _on your own time_, be my guest – but down here, you're here because you're _needed_, and you're the _specialist_, and all this hand-wringing and hesitation is going to get us all killed."

She spun back on him as he was making strangled noises, his mouth hanging open. "So _shut up_ about not being Anders. If I'd _wanted_ Anders here, _your_ ass would be in the Keep, got it?"

She pushed past him, calling over her shoulder to them all, "Pull up stakes. We're meeting Commander Saelac and warriors from House Warden about an hour's walk from here."


	9. On Pack Dynamics and Mating Habits

_Warden Loghain:_

_It's become necessary to transfer that young warden in whom you showed such interest to the compound in Denerim. There is something about the Vigil that doesn't agree with him – so for his health he has been transferred. I am told that Ser Cauthrien chanced to see him in the market and remarked that his demeanor and comportment reminded her strongly of a much younger version of you._

_His curiosity is boundless, and will no doubt land him in trouble some day. I am told he managed to stumble into the royal kennels at precisely the wrong – or one might say right – time, and is now accompanied everywhere by a large black pup appropriately enough named Shadow. I think they will do well together._

_Be well, and know that your brothers and sisters in arms miss you and wish you well._

_Yours in Sacrifice_

_Warden-Commander Risa Aeducan_

* * *

_Something is wrong at the Vigil._

Loghain Mac Tir read through Risa's letter again, trying to figure out what _exactly_ had happened that had led her to take Gareth on a hard week-long journey to Denerim. Had the people of Amaranthine tried another revolution, as the nobles had incited the peasants to do just before Gareth's birth? Had bandits attacked? Kidnappers, trying to get to the infamous Loghain Mac Tir through his son? Risa's dwarven relatives playing their damnable political games?

Whatever the reason, he couldn't fault her reaction. If Gareth were in Denerim, there were only two places he could possibly be: the compound, as she said, or the palace, which he thought far more likely. There could be no safer place on or _in_ Thedas (other than in his or Risa's arms) than under Anora's watchful eyes, and in the nursery protected by palace guards.

So Cauthrien thought the boy a younger version of himself. The crows' feet at the corners of his eyes deepened with pleasure at the thought, and almost immediately he wished desperately that he could be home with the boy. It pained him no small amount that he was foresworn to Risa and the Maker alike – he had promised that he would be there to see his boy raised, and not leave it to others as Anora's upbringing had been. Risa had understood – after her rage that the First Warden was ordering him away had been spent – and had done her best to reassure him that all would be well and he would be home soon.

He did not know if he could believe that anymore.

Here in Montsimmard, he was largely ignored – something for which he was eternally grateful. Certainly there had been a few young bucks who had tried to take 'a friendly spar' quite a bit further than 'friendly'. No doubt they wished to prove their virility and their dominance over the Butcher of Ferelden – as if it would be any great victory for a twenty year old to best a fifty year old in a contest of arms. That each one of them had lost – and that the last one who had tried it had been knocked cold and suffered a broken arm as a result of a poorly-timed (or well-timed, depending on one's persepective) shield bash – had ended the practice.

That had lead to _another_ annoyance, in fact. Some of the female servants – and even a female Warden – had made their interest in him plain. Their interest was only of a sexual nature; it was only natural, he supposed. No doubt that while it would be considered a great coup for the men to best him on the field of battle, the women had decided they would like to spar with him in a far different arena. In terms of the behavior of animals in the wild, it made sense – the females would seek the strongest and wiliest mate to father their children. In the fortress of Montsimmard, neither he nor the female Wardens could possibly reproduce, even were he interested in infidelity, and he hoped he had more respect for himself and the servants than to tumble them. He'd gone years without rutting before he married Risa; he had no interest in bedding anyone else.

Alistair was probably fair annoyed that Gareth had impressed a pup from the royal kennels. Loghain couldn't say he'd blame the man, and he himself would have preferred Gareth a bit older; but then who was to say? Adalla, his own mabari, had been impressed when he was no older that Gareth – she'd been his loyal companion and protector until his thirteenth year. Would have been longer had it not been for an Orlesian lord taking her away from her family in some scheme to crossbreed her with their poncy sight-hounds… she'd returned home horribly used, and died in his arms.

Loghain became aware that his hands were clenched into tight fists, and took a deep breath, consciously relaxing them. It would do no good to keep revisiting his _many_ reasons to hate his fellow Wardens, and for all the twaddle about being _brothers and sisters_, it was VERY clear to him that they were and would always be Orlesian, and they would treat him with disdain if not outright hatred.

He did not care that they hated him, and he was quite pleased that they feared him now that he'd knocked quite a few on their arses. But he was deadly bored with being kept in the Fortress instead of sent on campaign, and that he was not even utilized for his knowledge of logistics and tactics.

He began to wonder if somehow, he and Risa were not actually the victims of Warden politics but had become somehow embroiled in the peculiarly Orlesian "grand game". If so, he worried that he was being used as a pawn against Anora and Alistair – and therefore, Ferelden.

He picked up pen and parchment, and began to write.

_To the Warden-Commander of Ferelden:_

_I am most glad to hear of the progress your protégé has been making, and that his removal from Amaranthine has improved his health. Perhaps the abundant flora there are what caused his malaise; I have known men to be quite ill at certain times of the year when a particular tree or flower was in bloom….._


	10. Noted

"This ain't good," Oghren muttered under his breath to Sigrun as they stood beside Varel and Anders in the Main Hall.

"Risa is gonna be pissed beyond belief," Sigrunn said back just as quietly. "You're the ranking warden here, Oghren… do something."

Oghren sighed. "Man, I wish Ser Stone-face were still here. He'd set this asshole straight."

* * *

"And I am telling you that I am a _Grey Warden_," Anders said calmly, his arms crossed over his chest. "You are neither wanted nor _needed_ here, Templar."

"Ex-templar," the man growled. With his close set eyes, lank brown hair, and his long sharp nose, Rolan was not by any means a handsome man. Something about him set Anders' teeth on edge, and it wasn't just the bit about him being a templar.

"We both know there's no such thing," Anders said. "You took the vows, they feed you lyrium. And that's a leash you can't slip."

"Darkspawn destroyed my chantry," the man grated. "And tainted me as well. A certain death sentence, had they not given me the Joining. And it's why I'm sent, Mage." The man looked away, then back again at the two dwarves and mage standing before him. "Your Commander is in the _unique_ position of being able to acquire lyrium for me outside of the Chantry." The man actually smiled. "Her connections to King Pyral and the friendship between Amaranthine and Kal Hirol make this the _only_ compound on Thedas where I would be assured a steady supply."

"You presume a lot," Oghren growled. "Lyrium is _money_. Don't care _who_ she is, it ain't gonna be easy to get – or cheap. Assuming she CAN get any away from the Chantry. They're awful jealous of their shipments, and if any of their shipments start getting lighter so's to supply the Keep, they're gonna wanna know why."

Oghren snorted. "Go back to the Chantry. They'll place you _somewheres_."

"I have _orders_," Rolan said, wrinkling his nose as he handed them over. "From the First Warden himself." He cocked his head. "Tell me, _did_ anyone ever work out how Aeducan managed to survive killing the Archdemon? It's still a hot topic of debate at Weisshaupft." He leaned closer, speaking as if in confidence. "I'm told there are some that argue it must be _blood magic_ of some sort."

Anders read the papers grimly, even as Sigrun thumbed her axe blade nonchalantly. With a huff, he passed them to Varel. "The commander will have to sort this when she returns. In the meantime, Varel, find a room for Rolan here."

"And where," Rolan asked with a smirk, "will you be sleeping?"

THUNK! Sigrun's axe suddenly was quavering in the step below the one she was standing on, making the four men jump involuntarily and turn to look at her.

"Sorry 'bout that," Sigrun said cheerfully, tugging the handle until the blade came free. "With me, where he always does," Sigrun said matter of factly, sensing Anders' surprise at the outrageous lie. She smiled. "I wouldn't come to visit us after hours, though, Rolan. I faced darkspawn for _years_ before becoming a Warden… Legion of the Dead, you know. We live out in the Deep Roads, and we tend to be rather _bad_ to startle out of a sleep. And by bad I mean we tend to kill whatever isn't supposed to be near us."

There was something sharp in his glance at her – annoyance, perhaps? – and he visibly deflated. "Noted."

* * *

Nathaniel Howe's hand was on the door to the makeshift nursery Risa had set up in the Denerim Wardens' compound in the room next to hers when he heard her voice behind him. "Don't."

Her Warden-Constable turned, an eyebrow arched. "Don't what?"

Risa stepped out of the shadows. "Don't get too close to him, Nathaniel. Don't let him start to expect to see you." She didn't look angry, precisely… but very… focused.

"I'm sorry?"

"Gareth. He looks up to you, Nate. And Maker knows he couldn't have picked a better hero to worship…."

"Then what is the problem, exactly?" He was a little perturbed. He liked Gareth, and it was obvious the boy liked him as well. Risa had never had a problem with him visiting the nursery when little Nate was there…

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. "He has a father. I don't want him starting to see you as a replacement," she said quietly. When her obsidian eyes met his stormy grey ones, he saw no anger – simply sorrow.

"Risa, I…."

She shook her head, not meeting his eyes. "You're my Warden-Constable now, with Loghain in Orlais. You've taken on ruling the Arling and fighting at my side. You're filling the position Gareth knows his father held." She met his eyes with difficulty. "I heard him when you took him from my arms the other day, Nate…"

"Risa, it doesn't…"

"He called you _Dada_."

"He was more than half-asleep, groggy!" He wasn't sure why he felt so unaccountably annoyed by all this. "A four year old, just woken from a sleep, and being passed into the arms of a man with a similar build to…."

She shook her head. "Nate, please. He _has_ a father, and _his father is coming back_, and I don't want him confused."

Nathaniel nodded, stepping back, his arms crossed over his chest. "And what if he doesn't come back," he asked quietly.

"Gareth's not looking for a replacement," she said quietly. "And neither am I."

They looked at each other across the feet that separated them, and Nathaniel sighed, turning to walk away.

"Noted."


	11. One to Another

Risa stood before the window in the small study Erlina had shown her into and sobbed softly, hiding her face in her hands as Dog whined and leaned against her side.

For the past week, she had been bringing Gareth to the palace to play with Duncan, and the two boys along with Nate Cooper had been running about and playing together, whooping and hollering with abandon, with Shadow romping along with them, tongue hanging out and barking as well. Delilah Cooper had been asked by Anora to be one of her ladies in waiting, and the boys were under the watchful eyes of the royal nannies.

Today, Gareth had realized that she was leaving. And not just, "I'll see you after playtime," but LEAVING. She had no idea how he had figured it out, but when she had kissed him (as always) and told him she loved him (as always) and turned to go, he'd given her a panicked look and flung himself on her, getting a death grip on her waist and screaming, "Mama, NO! No want you GO!"

Shadow had picked up on his hysteria immediately and grabbed her ankle as she tried desperately to soothe the boy. It had taken some fifteen minutes for the nanny to gently coerce Gareth away from his mother and into a game out of sight of her, and Risa had managed to disentangle herself from the pup with Dog's assistance, then keep it together until she got several corridors away….

The door to the study opened quietly, and Risa felt a familiar tingle behind her eyes. Without hesitation she turned and found herself enfolded in a familiar and soothing hug.

"It'll be all right, Risa. He'll be just fine…."

Leather, and bergamot, and the indefinable scent that reminded her of sunshine and masculinity. Risa shuddered as she tried desperately to reach for the utterly neutral expression Sigrun and Oghren would have recognized as "stone hewn". "You better let go," she gasped between sobs. "What will the servants think? What will your _wife_?"

"That I'm comforting an old friend, who happens to be her mother in law?," Alistair said softly, letting her shudder in his arms. "It's ok. Just let it out."

Risa shook her head. "I'll ruin your tunic." She could tell already that her tears were spotting the sage green pile.

"I never _did_ like that color on him," said another familiar voice, and Risa looked up, tearblind, to make out Anora standing a few feet away. The woman did not seem surprised or upset to see Alistair embracing the dwarf.

Risa fought and got her emotions safely under control again – or at least out of sight. "I hate to leave him…."

"You'll be back soon," Alistair said soothingly.

Risa fixed him with a bleak look, but said nothing.

"No matter what, he will remain safely here alongside Duncan," Anora said calmly. "Of that you can be sure, until you and my father return for him."

Risa looked at Alistair.

"Depend on it. If the worst comes to the worst, Risa… Gareth will be loved. I will not have him sent elsewhere, and neither will Anora."

"I'll hold you to that," she said softly. "I've found my way to the Fade before."

"Maker, Risa… after being sent away from Redcliffe at ten, do you think I could actually do it to another child?" Alistair murmured, clasping her shoulder.

She shook her head. "No. I do not. Though it is comforting to hear it said."

"Then be comforted," Anora said. "Do what you must."

Risa nodded and turned, walking away. "Once I deal with this matter, Anora, your father will return to Ferelden at my side. I swear it."

* * *

It was a long, and quietly awkward week's long ride home.

"Ancestors, Howe…. I'm an ass."

Nathaniel reined horse in to walk beside her. "And?"

"That's it. I'm an ass, and a presumptuous one. And I apologize." She looked away. "Your kindness to Nug and me, that's all it was." She shook her head.

"Apology accepted," he said gravely. "Risa – Commander. I know there is a lot on your mind. Let me help in whatever way possible."

She nodded back. "Of course, Constable."

He looked at her, and smiled slightly as she nudged Milady ahead.

* * *

"There will be no Templars – or ex-templars – in this Keep," Risa said patiently.

"The First Warden…." Rolan began.

"The First Warden can _accept sexual favors from his griffin!"_ Risa snapped, stepping forward to challenge Rolan and only stopping when she felt Nathaniel's hand on her shoulder. "_The First Warden_ has not impressed me with his orders to this keep. First depriving me of my Constable, and now saddling me with a lyrium addict who looks at my healer as if he is something good to eat? _I will not have it!"_

"There are _orders_…." Rolan began again.

Risa nearly growled in frustration. She composed herself, then spoke very precisely, spitting out each word. "You will be housed at the _Chantry_ in Amaranthine. No doubt you will find _that_ more familiar and comforting than… here. You will report for training at _11 bells_, and will _return_ to the Chantry for your lyrium ration each evening." She stormed up to the man, and looked him in the eye. "And under no circumstances are you EVER to be alone with Warden Anders. Is that _perfectly_ clear? And if, Ancestors forbid, you _ever_ Smite or Silence him, even by accident, you had best pray to your Maker for mercy, for I will have none."

"You cannot…"

"Those are your ORDERS, Warden." She nearly spat the words in his face. "I am still allowed to designate housing and training am I not?"

"Yes. Ser." Rolan growled. "Will there be anything else, ser?"

"Constable, see that the warden is properly outfitted, and give him Lola as a mount to get to and from the Chantry," Risa said quietly.

Nathaniel nodded. "Yes, Commander," he said, escorting Rolan from the Great Hall.

"Commander… isn't Lola a…"

"Yes, she's a donkey," Risa said to Varel. "They should get on well – one ass to another."


	12. A Better Offer

As it happened, Rolan was _not_ housed at the Chantry. He was no longer a Templar, according to the Revered Mother in Amaranthine.

"No longer a _templar_." Risa fumed. "Might as well say Dog's no longer a mabari, put him in a pretty dress, and teach him to walk on his hind legs!"

Dog growled.

"My point being," Risa continued with a comforting pat to her warhound, "that _saying_ you're a lady in waiting doesn't make it true, buddy."

"Well, what are we going to do?" Nathaniel asked. "He has to be housed at the Keep. And despite what Sigrun said to him, we can't expect her to be Anders' roommate until the end of time."

"Blasted First Warden," Risa growled, pacing before her fireplace. "I don't see why we even _need_ him. He didn't help Alistair or me during the bloody blight – we had to do it all on our own. He didn't give us any of the equipment we have – we made or bought it all. He didn't give us this base – or the Denerim compound – those were granted by the crown – and Soldier's Peak was an old Dryden fortress. We ended the Blight, we sent him bone and leather and blood, we had to give up Loghain and take this _cast-off_ they don't want." She paced. "And if you don't think I'm certain that the Chantry's fingers are all over this, I have some lovely lakefront property to sell you in Denerim."

"So what do we _do_, Risa?" Nathaniel asked. "We know he's here, probably to keep an eye on Anders. The Chantry _hates_ to lose an apostate, and we slaughtered a contingent of Templars to keep him."

"To keep a _Warden_," she said.

"Well, if a Joined Mage is a _Warden_ and not a Mage, then a Joined Templar is a _Warden_ and not a Templar." Nathaniel said quietly.

"Shards and sand, will you STOP being so reasonable and logical?" Risa groaned. She ran her fingers through her hair. "Can't you for once be on my side?"

"I am on your side. There's not much we can do, really." Nathaniel pointed out. "Anders can't keep living in Sigrun's quarters. And we can't house Rolan differently from the rest of the Wardens."

Risa nodded. "We could house Anders differently, though. What if we were to give him one of those empty cottages as a clinic and home?"

"And leave him even more isolated? Poor choice, Risa."

"My options are nothing but poor choices," she said. Dog paced along with her, as if he were considering the problem as well. "I know you probably think that I am paranoid but…."

"You believe this has Orlais, and the Grand Cathedral stamped all over it, if not Celene herself." Nathaniel nodded. "I am beginning to come around to your line of thinking. Which is _why_ we must handle Rolan carefully."

"Oh, I'm just a nasty _dwarf_," Risa said. "Irritable, prone to violence, and acting hastily. In other words: exactly what they expect of me."

Nathaniel nodded.

"It _did_ give me a day and a night to think about what to do with Rolan."

"And?"

"There aren't any more rooms left in the family wing, are there?"

"Not on this floor, no…" Nathaniel peered at her. "Unless you were to re-erect the wall between your sleeping quarters and Loghain's…"

"Yes, _as I said_, no more rooms in the family wing on this floor," she said breezily. "I _do_ believe there is rather a large and comfortable room – with its own bathing facilities – just on the end of the dorm wing?"

Nathaniel nodded. "There is… but…."

"Tell me – do you think much could get by Micah and Alaina?"

Nathaniel smiled at the thought of those two pages. "I don't believe so, no. That pair has always been rather… observant. Without being observed."

"More so since their association with you and a certain Antivan elf of our acquaintance. And who would suspect children?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "Dangerous."

"I don't want them following him about, or looting through his unmentionables. But _surely_ they can report any odd comings or goings." Micah was nearly fourteen now, ready to become a squire if he so chose. Risa meant to keep her promise – he could choose his career, at the Vigil or not, at any time. She would prefer if he returned to the Vigil as one of her knights, but she would do what the boy wanted.

"I really don't know that's a good idea," Nathaniel sighed.

"Well. We'll have to simply count on the fact that Anders is in the next room, and Dog and I are notoriously light sleepers. And we'll _definitely_ also need to make sure Jowan is also never left alone with him. If he's that batty over a mere apostate, imagine what he'd do if he knew we harbored a blood mage?"

"Jowan," Nathaniel said, "for all his nervous tics and self-deprecation, could tear Rolan in half without a thought."

Risa nodded. "I know. _That's_ what I'm afraid of."

Nathaniel crossed his arms. "So what are you going to do about the Divine interfering with us?"

"What else?" She smiled a predatory smile. "Go to the First Warden and to the Commander of Orlais and give them a better offer."


	13. S'il Vous Plaît

Loghain Mac Tir clucked and guided Traveller to the side of the road when he saw that a large farm wagon had broken down in the road ahead. As he approached, he saw some of the peasants go pale and attempt to hurry the overloaded cart out of the way.

A pretty young woman ran over to him, speaking in rapid-fire Orlesian and clutching at his boot desperately. _"__Oh__, s'il vous plaît, Monsieur le __chevalier, __s'il vous plaît, __nous __dire __sans manquer de respect__...__Nous __sommes désolés __pour les inconvénients__-__, mais __le __wagon__a perdu __une roue.__Nous allons essayer de__sortir de votre __chemin!__"_

"Eh? What's this?" Loghain tried not to flinch as she grasped at his boot, and gently, he reached down to reassure her with an awkward pat on the shoulder and to urge her away from his boot. "_Lentement, __s'il vous plaît, __ma dame__...__Je ne __comprends pas __bien __Orlesian__.__"_

"_Mais __c'est quoi? __Vous portez __l'armure __d'un chevalier__! __A moins que ...__vous êtes__t-il, __n'est-ce pas__? __Le boucher__de Ferelden__, le gardien __gris, __Loghain__!_" She backed away, her eyes rounding with fear.

"_That_ I understood loud and clear, madame," he said, dismounting and tying Traveller's reins to a nearby fence. "Some may well call me a butcher on both sides of the border."

The woman switched to halting common. "Please, ser, I mean not to offend! Do not 'arm my brothers! I will… I will do as you will, ser." She looked up at him, trembling with fear, and began to push her dress sleeves off her shoulders.

"Here now, stop that!" he said, clearly taken aback.

"Do not 'urt them," she begged, stepping before a young boy. "Ser, 'e 'as only twelve years and…." He could see the rest of the men trying desperately to drag the cart aside, and some of the women looking resigned, angry, horrified….

"Madame," Loghain said firmly, "your offer is _quite_ unnecessary. I only dismounted to see how I could help."

"_Pour aider__? __C'est tout__? __Vous n'êtes pas __fâché__?_"

"Yes, to help." He walked over. "What's the problem?"

The woman listened as her brother spoke. "It is the wheel fastening. It fell out and the wheel came off. It is a matter of lifting the wagon and refitting the wheel," she explained.

"Then our course is clear," he replied. "Have the men lighten the cart. I will help lift it so the wheel can be replaced."

"You would do this? For _Orlesians_?"

"I would do this. For _farmers_, like myself."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I do recall this tale. That you become bandit because…"

Loghain shook his head. "I do not wish to speak of it, except to say I have as much reason to hate chevaliers as do you."

"_Pardon_," she said quickly as he stripped off his gloves and bent to help the men working on the wagon. "I mean no offense."

* * *

"What is the meaning of this, this outrage?" sneered Comte de la Fer as he paced in the Warden-Commander's office. "You allow this, this Ferelden to wander the countryside and incite the peasants?"

Commander Guillemot looked at the Comte blandly. "And what am I to do? Have a warden I do not send on patrol? And what 'incite' do you mean? He helped fix a wagon… and got it off the roadway before your precious entourage made it to that point in the road, no?"

"He told them he hates chevaliers!"

Guillemot shrugged. "The feeling is perfectly mutual. Mention the name Loghain Mac Tir to those whose fathers he slew. Is that all?"

"I will _not_ have this disruption…."

Guillemot stood. "You _will_ have this disruption. Unless you have an interest in blundering into a situation you have no business being in the center of. No?"

"But…?"

Guillemot shrugged. "As you will. But do not say I did not warn you. One should not involve oneself in the Grand Game if one does not know the pieces – and who plays them."

Fer paled. "He was _brought_ here?"

"I suspect."

"But _why_?"

Guillemot's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you should ask. I am _sure_ your interference will be most welcome."

As the Comte de le Fer left in a huff, Warden Guillemot sighed. The truth was he wanted Loghain there as little as Loghain wished to be stationed at Montsimmard. But when the First Warden himself involves himself, and Chantry agents seem always to be nearby, one would do _very well_ to turn a blind eye to the machinations of the Grand Game.

He wondered, and not for the first time, who would benefit most by keeping Mac Tir here. Celine? He supposed having the disgraced hero here was a bit of a coup. Divine Beatrix? She was said to be a master of the Grand Game. Someone else?

Whomever it was, he hoped, would soon tire of Mac Tir's presence. He had three young Wardens with broken limbs from challenging the old man to sparring contests. And he had the man himself – never insubordinate, no. But always asking, "Anything _useful_ for me today?"

Loghain had a point. His skills were wasted here because no one trusted him. And they were lacking in Ferelden, where they were needed.

The sooner he saw the back of Loghain Mac Tir, the better.


End file.
